


the heart's memory

by adjit



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A banquet night retrospective, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Honestly it skews more magic than realism but it's in the ballpark, M/M, Magical Realism, Pre-Relationship, Soft and Emotional, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjit/pseuds/adjit
Summary: “What do you need from me?” the bartender in front of him asked, voice quiet.“I want a dream.”She laughed, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “You can’t afford that from me. What do you need?”Yuuri hesitated, pointer finger tapping incessantly against the pad of his thumb. “A memory, then. The happiest one you have.”The video of Yuuri skating to Stammi Vicino is never posted, and Viktor takes a break from skating. Yuuri doesn't see the connection between the two.Yuuri tries for one more season, but without Viktor's shadow to chase after, he needs something else to skate for. He finds it in bits and pieces of an abandoned memory.





	the heart's memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phylocalist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phylocalist/gifts).



> About half a year ago, Mel and I had a conversation about how much we loved magical realism, and I told him I wanted to try writing it. And then I proceeded to not do that for several months. And when I did write something, it was only kind of magical realism, and it's Viktuuri bc that's the only thing I write. So really it's something I mostly wrote for myself. But it sure is still dedicated to him! I know I wouldn't have written it if not for him.
> 
> Love you Mel, I hope that despite everything, you still enjoy it <3  
>    
> Title taken from a quote from Love In The Time Of Cholera, because if I'm gonna try to write magical realism, may as well pay a tribute to Gabriel García Márquez.

Yuuri Katsuki was an exceptional person in many ways, but he was average in many others. He, like most people, didn’t think much about what he said before he said it. Sometimes _after_ he’d think about it endlessly, the words echoing in his head, never leaving him alone. But before, not much. 

And when he said, “Wait, are you recording?” to three young girls, he didn’t think much of it at the time. Truthfully, he didn’t think much of it after, either, except making sure their mother deleted the video. 

When the end of the skating season came and his idol announced he was taking a break, he didn’t think about that sentence. His head was weighed down with millions of thoughts, too quick moving and numerous to make sense of at first, and then too loud and then too numb- but none of them were about that sentence. 

He did think of the moments before that sentence, of the feeling of _trying_. Trying to feel the love and the joy of the past again. He pulled the memories out for a moment, cupped them in his hands and stared deep into their depths. They were small and old and falling apart, but they were still bright with childlike wonder. He folded his fingers over them, felt the warmth, and let that feeling keep his body moving.

And so he tried. He pushed his way through until the night before his first real competition of the season, and then he finally felt himself crumble. Effort no longer enough to keep him together, he collapsed in on himself, a pile of lacking ability stitched together with too much free time and a dream that had already been crushed.

He tried to pull the old memories out again, but he stopped. They were already fragile, and if he relied on them too much, they would break. 

Instead he ran and ended up in the same place every desperate person ends up. 

“What do you need from me?” the bartender in front of him asked, voice quiet.

“I want a dream.”

She laughed, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “You can’t afford that from me. What do you need?”

Yuuri hesitated, pointer finger tapping incessantly against the pad of his thumb. “A memory, then. The happiest one you have.”

“I’ll give you a feeling. We’ll work up to a memory.” She motioned for Yuuri to reach out and dropped something in Yuuri’s outstretched palm. It landed in his hand with a small bounce. “No payment required yet.”

“What is it?”

“The Surprise of seeing something unexpected.”

“Is it going to be enough?”

“It’s not something to live for, but it should get you through this.”

Yuuri traced a finger over the surface of the feeling, thoughtful. “Okay.”

She was right: it was enough to get him through the competition. The sharp spike of it in his chest kept him alert, his eyes bright as he kept a lookout for something more. But it didn’t last long, just a flash of light in a dark room, and Yuuri understood quickly that surprise can only get you so far.

The night before his second assignment, he stood outside of the rink, the owner quietly walking up to his side. She didn’t look up, just fiddled with the zipper on her purse as she said in the same voice as before, “Hello again.”

“Surprise isn’t enough.”

She nodded, finally opening her purse. “I did say it wouldn’t be.”

“You said we’d work up to a memory?”

“We’re not there yet.” She gathered together the contents of the bag and handed him another feeling. “This is what you need.”

Yuuri cupped his hands around the feeling, watching it closely. “This isn’t Surprise.”

“It’s the Exhilaration of dancing with someone new. You might be familiar with it.”

Holding the feeling close to his chest, Yuuri nodded slowly. He wasn’t going to contradict her, though he didn't know what she meant. “But it’ll help?”

“It’s stronger than Surprise. But it won’t do what you want.”

“It’s enough. I just need to get through this season.”

“And then?”

Yuuri didn’t answer for several long moments. She laughed it off. 

“You’ll get there,” she promised.

The feeling worked. His arms extended into space, reaching for someone to share the moment with, his fingertips tingling with anticipation. Every movement he made was lighter than air.

But when the feeling was spent and left him alone again, the hole in him felt bigger than before. It was different than surprise, which faded quickly but took nothing with it. Exhilaration took him high enough to let him glimpse the promise of something new, and when there was nothing left to fuel it, he crashed. Bereft of the excitement of the moment, Yuuri felt nothing.

A nothing that only led to worse as he realized he had conned his way into the finals. Everything came crashing down on him again, left him shuddering alone in a hotel room in Barcelona, hands trying to stop the deluge of tears down his face. He couldn’t keep this up forever, he couldn’t run on empty feelings for the rest of his life. 

A hand on his shoulder should have surprised him, but the quiet voice that interrupted the moment was one that he almost expected. 

“Are you going to quit?”

Yuuri pressed his palms harder against his eyes, focused on the phantom patterns dancing against black as he swallowed down his hiccuping sobs. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to?”

He took a shaky breath. Let it out. “No.”

“Then I have one more feeling for you.”

“Why?”

“Be careful with it. It’s incredibly delicate and very easy to crush. But it’s the most powerful yet.”

“The Exhilaration hurt me.”

“Feelings do that sometimes. But do you want more?”

“Fine.” At the very least, he had practice with getting up again when emotion had laid him low. He turned to look at the woman, the hotel manager, standing at his bedside. She handed him the feeling. “What is this?”

“A Realization of new love.”

Yuuri gaped. “How did you get this?”

“I am a tradesman.” She shrugged. “I can only give what I have been given.”

“Why would someone sell this?”

She looked at Yuuri with a calculating gaze. “Perhaps they knew it was about to break.”

Yuuri gulped as he felt the weight of it in his palm. It was such a heavy burden, and yet… 

“There’s only a little more to go.”

The Realization hit Yuuri like a punch to the stomach. His face flushed and his eyes widened, and for a moment he felt _this could be it_. It was a feeling of familiarity, of finally finding a place to call home, and it settled in heavy and warm in his stomach. He let himself tell the story of the one whose feelings he was borrowing, of the love they felt and that they had to give up. 

The love was small, and new, and incredibly fragile. He let himself grieve for it never getting the chance to grow, and he put those new feelings in his performance, too.

It was almost enough. It was more than enough for some, though not quite enough for Yuuri. (It was never enough for Yuuri.) But at the end of it all, he was standing at a banquet as a bronze medalist. He wasn’t wearing the medal anymore, but he still remembered the look of it, the clash of the bronze against the pink of his costume. 

“I have a gift. One last thing.”

Yuuri looked up at the woman with a glass of champagne in her hands.

“It’s for you.” She held out the champagne. Yuuri couldn’t tell if it was being offered in congratulations or consolation, but he accepted it nonetheless.

“What should I do with this?”

She tilted her head, a smile in her eyes. “Whatever you want. But I’ll be taking my payment, in return.”

Yuuri nodded, and she reached up to cup his cheek. 

“Good luck,” she said, and turned around to leave, taking a lost memory with her. He didn’t miss it. He didn’t realize he should.

Yuuri didn’t know what else to do, so he downed the champagne.

The memory trickled through his veins throughout the night. The banquet around him transformed, slowly filling in with technicolor visions of the past; a night full of surprise, and exhilaration, and realizations. A night of too much champagne and questionable decisions, a night that Yuuri should remember, but didn’t (and belatedly realized he never will, as that memory was gone from him now).

Yuuri realized who the memory used to belong to. 

He left the banquet early.

Standing in the lobby of the hotel, Yuuri struggled against the weight of the memory and what it meant. He didn’t understand a lot but he understood that he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to remember this. Not in this way.

Above the din of his thoughts, he felt the presence of the woman, and the feeling of eyes on him. But when he turned to look, his eyes met wide blue ones. 

Viktor Nikiforov was an exceptional person in many ways, and Yuuri had been watching him his entire life. Perhaps that was why it was easy to recognize him, despite the fact that he was obviously trying not to be recognized- or perhaps it was the fact that Viktor had been staring. At Yuuri.

Without thinking, Yuuri moved towards him.

“Hi!” Viktor said, smiling wide, but Yuuri frowned. He knew now, he _knew_ that that smile was reserved, forced. “I was just about to ask why the bronze medalist was abandoning the banquet. My coach would have never let me, if I were still skating. But he can’t stop me now, since I’m just a spectator.”

“I don’t really have a coach right now,” Yuuri said, and watched as something flickered and died in Viktor’s eyes. 

Viktor blinked, momentarily confused. “Ah.”

“I have something of yours!” Yuuri blurted. “I need you to take it back.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want this. I mean- I don’t want it knowing you don’t have it.” Yuuri held out the memory to Viktor, and Viktor leaned back from the golden glow of it.

“You have a memory of mine?”

“You sold it but- That was a mistake. Please don’t give up on it. Please don’t give up on-”

“Hey,” Viktor’s voice was soothing, and Yuuri realized he was shaking. “Is it that important to you?”

“Yes.” Despite everything, Yuuri’s voice was firm. 

“Well then, I might as well.” Viktor held out his hand with a flourish and a wink, and Yuuri almost collapsed in relief. He placed the memory in Viktor’s hand and gently folded Viktor’s fingers over it. 

“You’ll understand soon.”

“And then you won’t.”

Yuuri felt its loss already, but he smiled. “I understand enough.”

Viktor’s expression didn’t change as he remembered, but his eyes looked a little duller, and then they softened when they looked at Yuuri.

“Why did you want me to have this so badly?” Viktor asked, voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“I…” Yuuri struggled to remember, but he couldn’t piece together the reasons. “I don’t remember anymore.”

“You don’t remember it?”

“I… had to pay somehow.”

Something in Viktor’s face shifted, but Yuuri didn’t know what it meant.

Viktor tapped a finger against his lips. “Don’t give up on it, you said.”

“...Yes.”

Viktor reached out and cupped Yuuri’s cheek. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Yuuri felt the warmth of his fingers against his face, thinking blankly that his touch was so much softer than the woman’s. “Why?” 

“I have an idea for the rest of the season. But before that, can I tell you about that night? I think… you’ve been telling me all season. It’s my turn.”

“Okay.” Viktor’s eyes lit up, and his smile was a smile Yuuri’d never seen before. Yuuri reached up, placing his hand over Viktor’s, leaning into his warmth and smiling up at him. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

**Author's Note:**

> There are quite a few little details that I'm quite proud of putting in there. Which ones did you catch?
> 
> Leave a comment, or come hit me up on [tumblr](https://adjit.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/adjitay)!


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